


My God-Given Solace

by toasterpop (auntbijou)



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV), The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sentinels & Guides, Alternate Universe - Sentinels and Guides Are Known, F/M, Rough Trade's Little Black Dress Challenge 2015, preliminary sentinel/guide bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:26:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23174647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auntbijou/pseuds/toasterpop
Summary: Derek Morgan is an unbonded Sentinel who is very good at his job with the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit.  It is the voice of Penelope Garcia, an unbonded Guide who is also the BAU's tech goddess, that gets him through their worst assignments.  And it is getting harder and harder for him to deny that sometimes that sweet voice, like warm chocolate pouring over cold ice cream, is the only thing getting him through the worst humanity has to show them.
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan/Penelope Garcia
Comments: 10
Kudos: 219
Collections: Minions' writings, The Little Black Dress Collection





	1. Chapter 1

  
_Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth._  
_\--Buddha_  
  
  
  
  
  
  
He had an independent streak that was a mile wide, and had no problem throwing himself into danger. At least, that’s what Derek told himself as he raced down the stairs toward the hospital basement. It had all just... suddenly come together for him as Hotch argued with the Secret Service agent, it had to be a bomb, a really big bomb, it was in the ambulance Hotch had driven to the hospital, and like the World Trade Center bombing in 1993, the objective was the bring the hospital down.  
  
He listened intently as he came down the stairs, eyes on the door to the basement parking lot. With his bomb squad experience, it just made sense for Derek to be the one coming down here. At least, that’s how he justified it to himself as he paused at the door, pushing his hearing out, listening for footsteps, breathing, anything that would tell him who or _what_ was waiting for him. Metallic clangs, echoes, and the clattering of feet six floors above almost proved too much for him until...  
  
“Morgan?”  
  
That soft sweet voice... it pushed back the extraneous noise and he was able to focus strictly on the garage. Nothing. No heartbeats to indicate a presence on this floor. No sounds of footsteps, no sounds of movement, no breathing except his own. Funny how he was able to hear better and further whenever Garcia was talking to him. He slipped through the door, Glock up and ready as he moved stealthily to the loading dock, scanning ahead for movement. Already, a faint acrid tang in the air made his nostrils flare and he frowned. There was something familiar about it.  
  
“Morgan?”   
  
Garcia wanted him to answer verbally. He knew that, he _knew_ that. It sometimes irritated him how he knew these things just by hearing the tone of her voice. _And sometimes, you need to hear her voice, too_ , whispered a little voice at the back of his mind. He shook his head with a frown and focused on the job at hand, forcing his attention away from the distracting scent. Oh, right, a verbal acknowledgement. “Yeah, baby.”  
  
“You sound stressed.”  
  
Derek grimaced. How did she always do this to him? How did she always _know?_ “Do I?”  
  
“Where are you?” There was just enough trace of anxiety in her voice to activate his protective instincts. Derek tightened his focus, not willing to be distracted.   
  
“Not where I want to be right now,” he muttered, moving closer to the ambulance.  
  
Distant gunfire from somewhere upstairs caught his attention, but he kept moving, dropping down to the parking level as he slowly approached the ambulance. He needed to stay focused. There were a lot of people in this hospital, not just whoever the VIP was that the Secret Service was here for, and he needed to stay focused for them.  
  
“Derek,” Garcia said insistently. “Derek, where are you?”  
  
“Garcia,” he said sharply, and winced at the slight gasp he heard over his radio. He sighed, shaking his head. “Look, take this down for me, FDNY 108,” he said, moving to the back of the ambulance.  
  
“That’s an ambulance. Are you okay?”  
  
“Yeah, I’m fine, just track it for me,” he said, as he cautiously approached the back doors, aware of a faint beeping. That acrid tang was stronger and he found himself fervently hoping it wasn't what he thought it was. He peeked in through the windows.  
  
Shit.  
  
Shit, shit, shit, _shit_.  
  
He holstered his weapon and opened one door slowly and carefully, just in case there was a trigger wire on the door. Slipping inside, he stared at the bomb, realizing he’d been smelling were the components that made up the explosives. He stared at the configuration of wires and detonators, hoping for a way to neutralize it, until he spotted the cell phone. “Oh, my God,” he muttered. “Garcia, how long can you keep jamming the cell phone lines?” _Please tell me I have long enough to figure this out, he thought inwardly._  
  
“Uh, a few minutes, max,” she said shakily. “Why?”  
  
_Shit_. There wasn’t enough time for him to figure out how to defuse the bomb before it was triggered and detonated. “Because I’m gonna have to get this ambulance out of here.” He looked around and spotted a screwdriver. Just what he needed. He grabbed it as he gave the bomb a second look over, just in case he’d missed something obvious.  
  
“Or you could just evacuate the building like everybody else,” Garcia said hurriedly in her _stop giving me heart failure voice._  
  
“No,” he said firmly. “As soon as the airways are clear, this thing’s going up.” He got up and quickly got out, closing the door carefully. No need to rock this baby if he didn’t have to!  
  
“Going up? Oh, my God, that’s like... _in three minutes_ , ‘cause that’s when the satellite moves position!” She sounded a mix of scared and frustrated, and Derek smiled inwardly. Her mind was going to start moving quickly to get him the information he needed. He could already hear her working the keyboard, practically anticipating what he was going to ask for next.  
  
Derek ran up to the ambulance’s cab and got in, reaching down to pop out the ignition so he could hot-wire it. “Come on,” he said impatiently, stripping wires then sitting up. “Garcia, listen to me. I need you to find an open area of town I can drive this thing, give me as much space as you can, baby girl, and you tell everybody, you hear me, _everybody_ , that I’m coming!” He frantically crossed the wires. “Come on, baby,” he said coaxingly to the vehicle when the wires finally sparked, “Do it! Let’s go!”  
  
The engine started and he shifted it into gear. “All right, talk to me, Garcia.”  
  
He could do this, just so long as she kept talking to him.  
  
  
  
  
Penelope stared at her screen, her heart pounding at the stress and determination in Derek’s voice. “Okay, head north... and floor it, I’ll tell you where to turn.”  
  
She shot a quick look at Lisa Bartleby, who nodded encouragingly at her. Sometimes, Derek made her want to scream, but right now, the Sentinel needed her to focus. She kept her voice as calm and level as possible... okay, so maybe it wasn’t exactly zen calm, but considering that Derek was driving an ambulance with a bomb in it, she thought she was doing pretty fuckng fantastic! Penelope Garcia may not have been the quintessential Guide her instructors at the Sentinel and Guide Center tried to turn her into, but she loved her team, and she always did her best for them.   
  
Tires screeched over the radio, making her wince, and then she heard what sounded remarkably like gunshots. _Those weren’t gunshots... right?_ “What was that??”  
  
“It was nothing! It’s nothing just... talk to me!” she heard Derek yell.  
  
Lisa shot her a startled look, but turned resolutely back to her screen, and Penelope got the feeling she knew exactly what that sound was, but wouldn’t say. A sense of calm began to flow around her and she blinked before looking over at her companion. “You’re an empath?”  
  
“You need to stay calm,” Lisa said quietly. “You can’t help him if you’re freaking out. He’s gonna need you, right? So... keep cool.”  
  
“Fine, but after this is over we are _so_ talking about this,” Penelope muttered as she typed quickly, eyes fixed on her screen. “You watch the satellite map, I’ll watch his route.”  
  
The siren wailed to life, and Penelope winced. Derek’s hearing was possibly his strongest sense, the siren had to be wreaking havoc with his hearing. “Derek,” she said as calmly as she could manage. “Derek, focus on my voice. Ignore the siren, just focus on my voice.”  
  
“You know it, baby girl,” he replied, almost automatically.  
  
She allowed herself a brief smile before focusing on her screen, following the little yellow dot of the ambulance on the map as she murmured instructions to him.   
  
“How am I doing, Garcia?” he asked.  
  
“How’s he doing?” Penelope turned to Lisa.  
  
“One minute, 50 seconds,” Lisa replied, shooting her a quick look.  
  
Penelope glared at the map in frustration. “Why does it always have to be _you?_ ” she blurted before she could stop herself, so totally frustrated. “Why do you always have to do this??” _Dammit, Derek!_  
  
He didn’t answer, and she knew he was focused on looking ahead to see that the way was clear. The siren wailed through the pickup, and she kept up with her directions, picking the shortest route to the nearest park, trying to keep the frantic worry from her voice. As he got closer to the park, she couldn’t resist saying, “Derek, you don’t have much time. _Please_ be smart about this.”  
  
A chirp from Lisa’s computer made her nearly jump. “Signal’s coming back online,” Penelope said, forcing herself to stay calm.  
  
“Thirty seconds to full coverage,” said Lisa softly.  
  
“Derek, drive to the opening and then get the hell out,” Penelope said, seeing that he was nearly at the park.  
  
“There’s something I really want you to know, Garcia,” Derek said, a hint of desperation in his voice, and Penelope’s heart sank.  
  
“Twenty seconds,” said Lisa.  
  
“Save it, just get out!” Penelope said desperately, fighting back tears. _Fuck you, Derek_ , she thought bitterly. _You don’t get to make declarations of love and then DIE on me!!_  
  
“No, no, no, I’m not quite there yet,” Derek said maddeningly.   
  
“10...”  
  
“ _Morgan_ ,” said Penelope, gripping the edge of the desk.  
  
“Just listen to me...”  
  
“9... 8...” Lisa intoned quietly.  
  
“Morgan, _please_.” Penelope felt a strange sense of calm come over her and refused to look at Lisa. But she had a feeling it wasn’t Lisa. It was... shock... beginning to settle in...  
  
“You know what you are, Garcia?”  
  
_No_ , she thought stubbornly, _I am NOT going to listen to my Sentinel DIE..._  
  
“We just lost tracking,” Lisa said, the faintest hint of a shake in her voice.  
  
“Morgan!” The calm shattered. “ _Morgan_.”  
  
There was a loud boom and roaring sound that seemed to echo through her mind as she sat frozen and listening.  
  
“Derek?” She was barely aware of the tears flowing down her face as she stared blankly at the screen, waiting for an answer that might never come. Only the fact that she could still hear sound kept her from collapsing. "Sentinel, _answer me!!_ " she said in a commanding Guide voice she didn't even know she had.  
  
There was a fumbling sound, then, “Garcia? I’ll tell you what you are to me...”  
  
She could breathe again. She could breathe again, her heart was beating again, and _oh... my... God... I'm going to kill him..._  
  
“You’re my God-given solace,” he said, sounding breathless and tired and all sorts of things she should care about, but she was too furious... and relieved... to care.   
  
“Woman, you promise me one thing. Whatever happens... don’t you ever stop talking to me.”  
  
“I can’t right now, ‘cause I’m mad at you,” she said, so relieved to hear his voice even through her anger.   
  
“I can wait,” was his infuriating answer.  
  
She pulled off her headset and threw it on the desk, ignoring Lisa’s knowing smile. “Don’t you be all smug over there, Miss Thang,” she said irritably, “you and me need to have a talk about your projecting on a Guide!”  
Lisa paled slightly. “I _helped_.”  
  
“Yes, you did, but you need training for it,” Penelope said firmly, glad of the distraction. “That’s why you’re working in here, isn’t it? So you don’t pick up from other people?”  
  
“Well, yeah.” Lisa busied herself with archiving what they’d just done. “I’m _not_ a Guide,” she said, almost defiantly.  
  
“No, you’re not,” Penelope agreed as she made copies of her own files for the F.B.I. “You’re a sensitive. An empath, judging by how calm and peaceful this room feels and I can't believe I didn't notice or realize it.” She turned to face Lisa, making eye contact. “You know, if you can project that strongly, you’re wasted in this room.”  
  
“What?” Lisa frowned at her. “No, I was put on this duty because I’m too sensitive, I pick up too much and...”  
  
“And you can be trained to deal with that,” said Penelope firmly. “But what you did just now, projecting calm... don’t you think that would be valuable here? Think about what you could do for stressful situations in the squad room, or in crowd control? Or how about calming down a combative suspect, making him go to sleep instead of fighting?”  
  
“The Sentinel-Guide Center makes me uncomfortable,” Lisa said uncertainly.  
  
“You don’t have to go there.” Penelope reached into her bag and pulled out one of the cards all Guides carried. “The S&G center runs satellite centers for sensitives. Considering what you did, you’re pretty strong, and you could totally benefit from learning techniques to block out what you don’t want to pick up, and all that.”  
  
Lisa took the card, reading it while Penelope finished packing up her things and set her report for the precinct to print. When she was done, Lisa looked up.   
  
“Um... thanks,” she said, standing slowly. “I’ll... look into this.”  
  
Penelope smiled. “Good. It was nice working with you, Lisa Bartleby."  
  
A slow smile spread over Lisa's face, then she laughed. "A pleasure working with you, Penelope Garcia!"  
  
  
  
  
As Derek waited for Hotch to come out of the building, he pondered over the last few days. He sighed. If he was going to be honest, he needed to think over the last few _years_.  
  
There were four Guides on their team, three unattached... though it looked like maybe that was about to change in J.J.'s case.   
  
Out of the four, Derek responded the best to Reid and Garcia, though all four Guides had, from time to time, helped him through sensory spikes. They all had different styles, Rossi using distraction and re-direction, J. J. using light touches and projecting calm, and Reid using a constant patter of words combined with scent or touch.   
  
Garcia's voice, though... he frowned at his hands. Just her voice in his ear had pulled him out of complete zone outs, whether it was on the phone or through his radio. Maybe it was because he had listened to her for so long?  
  
He liked making her smile, that was why he bought all those goofy things for her. it wasn't like she was his _Guide_... because he didn't have one.  
  
The door opening caught his attention and he looked up, surprised that he hadn't heard Hotch coming down the elevator. Normally, he was so attuned to his Alpha that he was rarely caught off guard like this.  
  
He came out of the garage entrance as Hotch thanked the agent who had escorted him down. "Ah, ah, ah," Derek said as Hotch started to bend down to pick up his bags, sweeping it out from under the other Sentinel's hand. "I got it. I'm your ride."  
  
Hotch frowned. "I thought Agent Davis was driving me."  
  
"She was. I had her reassigned."  
  
Hotch took a quick, automatic look around, assessing the area for threats before focusing back on his second. "Don't you have something better to do?"  
  
"Than to annoy you for three hours? Hell, no!" He grinned unrepentantly at the older man.  
  
"Give me the keys," Hotch said quietly, sounding tired.  
  
"Not a chance, Hotch," Derek said firmly. He was well aware of his boss's injuries. He pointed toward the car. "Let's go."  
  
With a resigned sigh, Hotch turned toward the car and started walking.   
  
"So, did we ever find out who the Secret Service had in the hospital?" Derek asked, doing his own visual assessment of their surroundings.   
  
"Does it matter?" asked Hotch with the faintest hint of a smirk lurking in the corner of his mouth.  
  
"No, I guess it doesn't."   
  
They walked in silence for a few minutes before Hotch said, "Quantico's requested you transfer to run the New York office."  
  
Shocked, Derek stared at his companion for a second. "Hotch... they haven't even _buried_ her yet."  
  
"We're at war, things change," Hotch growled softly in warning.  
  
"Don't I need your recommendation?" Derek asked, confused.  
  
Hotch didn't answer, holding himself painfully as he moved to the passenger side of the waiting SUV.   
  
Derek frowned at that. "You didn't give it, did you?"  
  
Hotch turned slowly, looking down at first. "Your actions, as incredibly brave as they were, " and his eyes swung up to meet Derek's sternly, "would still be the actions of an agent who doesn't truly trust anyone."  
  
Derek stared at him in disbelief. "Hotch," he protested, "I did it _for_ this team!"  
  
Hotch stared at him for a long moment, then said, "My opinion doesn't matter. Job's yours if you want it." He turned to reach for the door of the car.  
  
"Hotch!" Derek waited until Hotch was facing him again. "Your opinion matters to _me_."  
  
Hotch watched him calmly, then said, "My life matters to me, and I have and always will entrust you with it."  
  
It hit him like a punch to the heart, and Derek could only stare at him, feeling something that had been tightly bunched up inside him, a coil of mistrust and hurt caused when Gideon had left them so abuptly, finally starting to loosen. It wasn't just Hotch's life, it was Jack's, too. Hotch was entrusting _everything_ to Derek, everything that mattered. Jack had already had his world shaken up by divorce. Losing a parent would be even worse. Hotch was trusting him to watch his back, to keep him from doing something stupid, from getting himself killed.   
  
It took a long moment for Derek to meet Hotch's eyes again.   
  
Hotch watched him process his words, then said, "Would you do the same for me?"  
  
Yeah, that stung.  
  
Hotch looked at the car, then back at Derek. "Still want to drive?"  
  
Derek looked at him, then down at the keys in his hand before lifting them to unlock the SUV. "Are you kidding? You're still having dizzy spells and you're supposed to take it easy on that leg. You didn't bring the damn cane so yes, I am driving." He snorted as he carried Hotch's bag to the back and hefted it in, then tossed his in after it.   
  
Hotch smiled. "Worth a shot."  
  
Derek shook his head and shut the back before going back to open the door for his boss. "Look at you, you can barely manage to get in by yourself," he said as the older Sentinel winced before sitting down carefully. "Oh, wait..." and he pulled something out of the backpack he'd kept.   
  
Hotch took it with a frown. "A donut cushion?"  
  
"For your broken tailbone, yeah, I talked to the doctor, that's my job," Derek said, taking the cushion and putting it into the seat. "Okay, now you can sit."  
  
It was going to be a long drive.  
  
It worked out, because Derek had a lot to think about, and being able to talk to a bonded Sentinel might be just the thing.  
  
Speaking of... "Hotch, where's Reid?"  
  
Hotch finished buckling his seatbelt and turned carefully to look at Derek. "I sent him on ahead. I had a feeling you needed to talk, and thought you might be more willing if Spencer wasn't with us."  
  
"Don't you need him for..."  
  
"Derek," Hotch said, raising one eyebrow. "I'm offering you three uninterrupted hours to pick my brain about whatever it is that's bothering you. Are you really going to turn that down?"  
  
Yeah. A _really_ long drive.  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

  
  
  
_"If a man will begin with certainties, he shall end in doubts; but if he will be content to begin with doubts, he shall end in certainties."  
\-- Francis Bacon _  
  
  
  
  
Four hours was a long time to fill when sharing a car. Aaron found himself wishing Morgan would just go ahead with the lead-foot, but the next moment, after a dizzy spell hit, he'd be grateful the younger Sentinel was being so careful with him.  
  
He also wished he hadn't sent Spencer on ahead.  
  
The low soft jazz playing on the radio was just enough to offset the hum of the tires on the highway, and kept his attention engaged enough that he didn't get lost in it.  
  
"Want to take a break?"  
  
He looked over at Morgan and smiled. "Do you?"  
  
"Oh, no, Hotch, we are not turning this into a pissing contest," Derek said with a short laugh. "I am not catching hell from Reid because we tried to out-Sentinel each other. Besides, you're my Alpha and I'm taking care of you or he will make my life miserable."  
  
"More miserable than it already is?"  
  
Derek looked at him quickly, then focused on the road, clearing his throat before reaching for the travel carafe he kept his water in. "Picked up on that, did you?" he asked after taking a sip.  
  
Aaron smiled. "You're on my team, Derek. And I'm a profiler. Doesn't take much for me to figure out you've got yourself tied up in knots over something."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
There was silence between them as the music switched to something light and bluesy. "You picked this playlist, didn't you?"  
  
Derek grinned. "Hey, it's light, it's quiet, it's just enough to keep us cool and not overwhelm our senses. It's my travel playlist when I'm driving, Garcia helped me put it together."  
  
Aaron pretended not to notice the almost unnoticeable hesitation before Derek said her name. Or the way his heart sped up slightly. "She's good at that kind of thing," Aaron said, turning to look out the window to give Derek a little time to recover.  
  
" _Muddy water round my feet, muddy water in the street, no God don't shelter down on the delta..._ " Madeleine Peyroux sang softly as the miles passed. " _Muddy water in my shoes, reeling and rocking to them lowdown blues, they live in ease and comfort there, I do declare..._ "  
  
"You went a long time without a Guide." Aaron turned and found Derek looking ahead, but he was well aware that Derek was also managing to watch him. "Why?"  
  
Aaron settled back as comfortably as he could manage in the seat. "Well... I came online when I was almost thirty," he said, picking up the little bag with his Sentinel safe pain meds in it and unzipping it. "I'd been latent before that, and never expected to come online, and I was happy with Haley."  
  
"She's not a Guide at all, is she?"  
"No," said Aaron, the familiar ache of loss still there. She was part of his landscape, and her absence was still felt keenly. Not having Haley or Jack there... he sighed and opened one of the prescription bottles, shaking out a pill and taking it before picking up his water to chase it down. "Not even latent. But... when I saw her, I just... knew."  
  
"Yeah," said Derek softly, and Aaron knew there was a story there. He probably wouldn't hear it today, but someday, he'd have to ask. "And Reid?"  
  
Yeah. Reid. Aaron drank more water, thinking of how his Guide would be fussing at him for not drinking enough water and quoting statistics on dehydration in Sentinels... he sighed and took one more sip before setting his cup back down in the holder. "Spencer Reid." He smiled just at the thought of the gangly young man who'd somehow captured his heart. He looked up at Derek. "I didn't expect... I had no idea he was taking suppressants when we hired him. I had no idea at the time that he was a latent Guide who thought he was dormant."  
  
"Because of his mother's schizophrenia?"  
  
"Pretty much. His mother is dormant, thanks to her illness. It affected Spencer pretty heavily, since his father left him with her." Aaron still wanted to throttle the man for it. "His Guide gifts manifested when he was 15, and he was put on the suppressants because of his age and circumstances."  
  
"Yeah, but don't they normally take take kids off the suppressants once they're of age?" Derek shot him a look, his brows creased.  
  
"Spencer argued that he wanted to complete his studies before looking for his Sentinel," Aaron said, "and he was so brilliant, the S&G center in Las Vegas let him. He just... never informed them when he was done."  
  
Derek snorted. It was entirely like Spencer to do such a thing.  
  
"He didn't go off them until after the Tobias Hankel incident." That incident still rankled in Aaron's mind. It was the moment that he realized Spencer was his Guide, though he'd kept quiet about it. "The Dilaudid interfered with the suppressants, and he gave them up. It worked just about as well at keeping his abilities reduced."  
  
"I know why I didn't confront Reid about it, but what about you?"  
  
Aaron laughed softly. "You know as well as I do that Spencer had to come to his own conclusion about it. He had to realize it on his own. And it was after he came off the Dilaudid that I realized his Guide talents were coming out. He had no idea what to do with them, and was about to go back on the suppressants. But at that point, well... the point is, I let Spencer know that he was my Guide, and I was having a lot of trouble staying balanced at that point, thanks to what was going on between Haley and me. He confessed that he realized I was his Sentinel, but had been afraid to say anything because he thought it would change things between us."  
  
"Did it?" asked Derek, and wow, there was a wealth of self-interest in that question.  
  
"Yes," Aaron said frankly. "It did. It made things _better_."  
  
Soft strains of opera, the duet from _The Pearl Fishers_ , it sounded like, played quietly while Derek stared ahead, thinking as the miles passed. Aaron gave him time to think, and picked up his phone to check his messages. He was reading through a reassurance from Jessica that Jack was doing fine and had finished his dinner when dizziness hit him again and he was forced to look up.  
  
"You sure the doctor cleared you to leave?"  
  
Derek was frowning at him in concern.  
  
"Yeah. I was warned I would have some dizziness, I did hit my head, you know." He did his best not to sound too cranky.  
  
"Yeah, I know." Derek's smirk said he hadn't quite succeeded. "Look, I just... you know, I made my peace with the fact that I would probably never find my Guide, you know? I meditate, I learned how to balance myself, and I haven't had any zoneouts since I was in college, so..."  
  
"So? What changed?" Aaron watched Derek's hands shift restlessly on the steering wheel.  
  
"I... started realizing that... that what was keeping me balanced during our cases was... was talking to Garcia on the phone."  
  
Aaron carefully kept the fact that he'd just won a bet with J.J. off his face. "Why do you think I always had you be the one to check in with her?"  
  
Derek shot a glare at him before focusing back on the road. "You suck."  
  
Aaron just smiled.  
  
"That is just... manipulation!"  
  
"No, it's called noticing a synergy between two of my colleagues and making the most of it," Aaron said, closing his phone and setting it in the holder between the seats. "You communicate best with Garcia, it would be foolish to not utilize that connection."  
  
Derek's mouth worked soundlessly as Aaron settled back in his seat. Finally, taking pity on the younger Sentinel, he said gently, "Derek, what would be the worst thing about Penelope being your Guide?"  
  
"I could put her in more danger than she's been in so far," Derek said immediately, a grim set to his jaw familiar to Aaron. "We could discover that we don't work because she's so... geeky, and I'm..."  
  
"Derek, you're pretty geeky yourself," Aaron said, trying not to laugh.  
  
Derek's glare made it more difficult to suppress.  
"Okay, okay, so... what would be the best thing about Garcia being your Guide?"  
  
Derek stared resolutely out at the road. "She's my best friend, Hotch," he said quietly. "I don't want that to ever change."  
  
"Why does it have to?"  
  
Derek glared at him, then sighed and looked back out through the windshield. "Hotch... you of all people should understand how much sex changes a relationship."  
  
"You're not attracted to her?" Aaron kept his tone neutral.  
  
"Well... _yeah_... she's my baby-girl, but... " and Derek shook his head. "I don't want to lose... what we have."  
  
"Would you say Spencer and I have lost what we had before our bonding?"  
  
Derek glanced at him, then grimaced. "No. If anything, you're _worse_."  
  
Aaron chuckled at that. "Yeah, we are. But you know, Derek, nothing says you have to bond sexually right away. I mean, yeah, it's the fastest way to bond, and it'll bring you closer faster, but... there's no reason you can't start with a platonic bond..."  
  
" _No!_ " said Derek sharply, then he let out a startled huff. "Oh, my God..."  
  
"Yep," said Aaron, looking out at the road and trying very hard not to be smug.  
  
"I am so screwed..."  
  
Aaron gave in to his urge to laugh this time and shook his head. "Derek... talk to her. When we get back, we'll have at least three days, possibly a week, off. Take that time and talk to Garcia, figure out where she's at and then both of you will decide where you go from there."  
  
When Derek started to protest, he smirked and Derek subsided. "As tempting as it is, Derek, and as much as you like to have a plan in place before you start anything, it would be a mistake for you to make any decisions before you talk to Garcia. Understood?"  
  
"Yes, Alpha," Derek said, brows drawn down in a frown. He was in a much better place to think this through now, though, and for that, Aaron was satisfied. He picked up the neck pillow and settled it behind his head, leaning back to nap for a bit. After all, all he could do at this point was simply wait.  
  
  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

  
  
_"We cannot solve our problems with the same thinking we used when we created them."_  
  
_\--Albert Einstein_  
  
  
  
  
  
Derek definitely had a lot of thinking to do as the black SUV flew down the highway. " _Come and see, I swear by now I'm playing time against my troubles_ ," Dave Matthews sang softly from the car radio, and Derek arched a brow at Penelope's choice for this playlist. Odd how she threw stuff on that he'd normally never listen to, but he always somehow ended up liking.  
  
He stared out at the road, listening to the sound of Hotch shifting to find a comfortable position as he tried to doze. They really should have brought Reid, but... as Hotch had said, Derek had really needed this time to talk to his Alpha.  
  
And now that he had...  
  
Derek sighed, one hand on the wheel as he reached up to rub his upper lip with the other, frowning into his hand. How did he handle this? Because, thanks to his reaction to Hotch's suggestion about platonic bonding, he was now very much aware that his Sentinel self very much considered Penelope _his_.  
  
She was his Guide.  
  
Suddenly, so many things made sense. The way he sometimes _needed_ to call her, even when he knew she hadn't had enough time to find anything that would help them. The surge of possessiveness he'd felt when she told him she had met somebody at the coffee shop and feeling like an idiot when his "subtle" attempt to discourage her from pursuing it backfired so spectacularly. The sense of wrongness he'd felt when she'd blown him off after he'd asked her out, then the utter knowledge that something was _wrong_ , strong enough to pull him out of the church later that night, sending him running to the hospital, only thinking to check his phone when he was in the parking lot so he could say it was their messages that had brought him to the hospital and not his Sentinel instincts...  
  
_God_ , he was stupid.  
  
Then he remembered that time, staying at her apartment to protect her because, despite her protests, he knew, _he knew_ she needed him and wouldn't rest unless he was there.  
  
Some Blessed Protector he'd turned out to be.  
  
_You don't need a Guide_ , said an old voice that he'd apparently listened to for far too long. _You can make it without one, you've done it this long, what are you doing this for, Derek?_  
  
_You need her, and she needs you,_ said a voice that sounded very much like Hotch's.  
  
That was really the crux of the matter, wasn't it? And was it really a weakness to admit that? To admit that he needed her? That he needed to be there for her, to protect her, to shield her, to just _be_ there, and he needed _her..._  
  
The opening strains of _Heroes_ began to play, and he grinned, remembering her saying, " _and I thought, is David Bowie really God??"_  
  
That made him snort, and Hotch muttered, "Is David Bowie really God?"  
  
Unable to hold it back, Derek burst out laughing and turned to see Hotch eying him sourly. It was entirely put on, though, as the man immediately grinned as he sat up, groaning ruefully. "You think too loud," he complained.  
  
"You can hear me think?" Derek asked, a little worried.  
  
"No," said Hotch, reaching for his water. "But the process of your thinking? Very loud."  
  
"Yeah." He looked up ahead. "There's a diner coming up. Want to stop and eat?"  
  
"Good idea." Hotch smiled ruefully. "I need to stretch my legs and back. This is murder. If my ears hadn't been so messed up, I would have happily taken the plane."  
  
_Not to mention, had Spencer with you to help ease the pain_ , thought Derek as he took the exit. He was well aware of what fully bonded Guides could do for their Sentinels. He'd just been unsure how anyone could allow someone who was a virtual stranger to them such a deep intimacy. Every time he'd been urged to meet unbonded Guides at the Center's meet and greets, that thought was always at the back of his mind, and he could never let go enough to get more than a superficial read on any of them. His profiling skills did the work from a distance before he ever engaged any of his Sentinel senses on them.  
  
_But you know Penelope Garcia_ , his sensible self reasoned. _You've known her for years. You practically finish each other's sentences, you've been in her home, where she hasn't allowed anyone else..._  
  
_But I've never brought her to mine._  
  
He pulled into the parking lot of the diner and forced himself away from that line of thinking.  
  
  
  
  
Aaron watched Derek push food around on his plate for nearly ten minutes before he finally decided to say something.  
  
"You're overthinking this."  
  
Derek looked up. "What?"  
  
"This thing with Garcia. You're overthinking it. Stop." He scooped another bite out of his baked potato and ate it, watching the younger man as he frowned. "Stop it. Stop worrying about it. From this point on, we're going to talk about anything and everything _except_ Penelope Garcia. Got it? You're tying yourself up in knots for nothing."  
  
Derek winced, but nodded. "Fine. What do you want to talk about?"  
  
Aaron blinked for a moment, then said, "Baseball?"  
  
They stared blankly at each other for a long moment, then began laughing.  
  
Yeah, much better.  
  
  
  
  
Three days later, Penelope was sitting on the couch with a big bowl of popcorn, staring at her TV and trying to lose herself in _Juliet of the Spirits_ but her movie night partner wouldn't stop complaining.  
  
"C'mon, Penelope, this is so _boring_ , if you're gonna make me watch an old movie, why not something funny like... _Some Like It Hot_ or something?"  
  
"Oh... my... God, would it _hurt_ for you to develop a sense of _culture???_ " She threw popcorn at him and he batted it away with a laugh.  
  
"I happen to have a very _well_ developed sense of culture, thank you very much," Kevin said, taking off his glasses for a moment to dislodge the popcorn that had gotten caught behind one lens. He peered at the lens, then reached for his bag, pulling out a lens cleaning kit and getting busy. "It happens to be nerd culture, but it is culture nevertheless."  
  
"Why aren't you using the tail of your shirt like you usually do?" she asked, watching him with fascination.  
  
"I just got these," he said, frowning as he sprayed the lens from a small bottle before pulling out a microfiber cloth to wipe it with. "They've got coatings to help with eyestrain from staring at computer screens and I've been told _very_ firmly to _not... fuck... them... up_." He finished and lifted them to peer through them again, and smiled. "See? Clean as a whistle."  
  
"Have you ever seen inside a whistle?" Penelope asked grumpily, picking up the remote and stopping the movie before picking up a folder and flipping through her DVD catalogue. "Okay, how about... _Intervista?_ "  
  
"Uh, no Fellini!" said Kevin, flopping back onto the couch and pushing his glasses back up. He picked up his popcorn bowl and frowned at her. "Look, I get it, this is like... _comfort food_ , but for _you_. This? Goes over my head, and bores me silly, but... _you_ love Fellini, and most of the time, I'm willing to watch his movies because you're my friend. But tonight, you need to laugh at something completely silly that I can laugh along with you, and this ain't fittin' the bill."  
  
Penelope sighed and put her popcorn down. "And _this_ is why I can't date you," she said, getting up and going to her computer. "I subscribed to this new movie streaming service, Netflix... let's see what we can find."  
  
"Look, you've got _Some Like It Hot_ right here, Penelope..." and she turned to see him holding it up.  
  
" _Fine_." She flopped back down on the couch and watched him change the DVDs out, then start the movie before he plopped down next to her. "Why aren't we dating again?"  
  
"Because we're both Guides, and you have an extremely stubborn and overprotective Sentinel who would not take kindly to my screwing with your scent profile any more than I already have." He leaned back in the cushions and stared at her as heat crept across her cheeks. "What?"  
  
"He's not my Sentinel, Kevin," Penelope said, grabbing her bowl again and scowling at the television. "At least, I'm pretty sure he doesn't want to be."  
  
"But you know he's your Sentinel, don't you?" He wasn't letting her get away with it, and those too keen eyes fixed on her face. "C'mon, Penny, I know something's up. Something happened with this last case, and it's got you all mixed up. You're upset, and angry, and he's tried calling you four times since I got here and you keep sending it to voicemail What's going on?"  
  
There was a squeal and a thump from behind the couch, and she sat up. "What the...?"  
  
Before she could finish, though, something flashed over her shoulder and dove under the table as another something hit the back of the couch. Looking at the table, two dark inquisitive eyes peered at her from over the far edge as two little paws gripped the wood on either side of the sleek head. It chittered at her, then squeaked and dove back under the table when a large Labrador Retriever came bounding around the corner of the couch, ears up and tail wagging. He barked happily, tongue lolling and tail nearly sweeping Kevin's bowl of popcorn out of his lap. Angry chittering sounded from under the table, and the dog went down on his forepaws, happily wriggling bottom up in the air as he whimpered enticingly.  
  
"Oh, come on out," Penelope said with a sigh. "You know he's not going to stop until you do."  
  
There was a solid thump from under the table, then the sinuous body of a river otter slid out. It chuffed at her, then jumped up and thumped the Labrador on the nose. The otter chattered at the dog, patting the dog's face and head with light little paws and the dog moaned happily, nudging the otter's body with a black nose.  
  
Penelope shook her head. "You are _so_ like your spirit animal," she said, watching the two thump around on the floor, rolling and teasing each other.  
  
"What, and you're not?" Kevin snorted. "Stop avoiding the subject," and he poked at her.  
  
"Stop poking me!"  
  
" _Talk!_ "  
  
"Okay, _fine!_ " Penelope settled back with her arms crossed over her chest. "I'm pissed off with Derek."  
  
"No duh," said Kevin, pulling up a handful of popcorn to munch on it. "So... why are you pissed off with him?"  
  
"Because he... he keeps running off and nearly getting himself killed!" She got up and started pacing and pretended not to notice the otter and the Labrador's heads following her progress back and forth like they were spectators at Wimbledon and she was the tennis ball. "He ran off without telling the rest of the team or _me_ what he was doing! I had to _ask_ him! And then, and _then_... then he finds an ambulance with a freaking _bomb_ in it and does he call the bomb squad? _No!!_ " At this point, she had started waving her arms. "He gets in the ambulance, hot-wires it, and _drives it to a park to detonate it!!_ " She stomped her foot to emphasize her point and glared at Kevin, who was at least trying to look properly sympathetic. "It makes me _so angry_ how he just is... is... so ... _willing_... to just... _throw his life away_ like that!!"  
  
Kevin sighed and smiled, shaking his head sadly. "Penelope, it's what they _do_. Sentinels... throw themselves in harm's way to protect the tribe. It's hardwired into them. It's our duty as Guides to make sure they have a reason to... _live_."  
  
"He _does_ have a reason to live!" Penelope protested. "He's got his mom and his sisters, he's got this whole _family_ and..."  
  
"And no Guide," Kevin finished. "Except he does."  
  
Penelope frowned and went to her desk, picking up a wind-up sushi toy, winding it up and setting it on the floor for her spirit animal to chase. "He doesn't want a Guide," she said bitterly. "He centers himself on my voice, but... he doesn't want the rest of me."  
  
"Is that why he buys you little trinkets and souvenirs whenever the team has to travel without you?" He smirked at her knowingly when she turned to glare at him. "I mean, come on, he even braves that little shop in Chicago, what is it, Giftland? to buy you your favorite Hello Kitty lip gloss!" When her eyes widened, he laughed. "Oh, come _on!!_ I've _been there!_ It's a scary shop for _me_ and I'm not a killer macho dude!!"  
  
"He's not a killer... macho... _dude!_ " Penelope protested, waving her hands again. "He's... he's... he's _Derek Morgan_ and he's kind, he's considerate, he's beautiful, and he's... he's..."  
  
"Yours," finished Kevin softly, and he caught her hands when she stared at him in shock.  
  
"Oh, my God... he _is_ mine," she said in a startled little voice, staring blankly at him. She slowly sat down on the couch. "He's... he's my Sentinel."  
  
"Yeah." Understanding and compassion came through his touch on her hands, and she sighed, fighting back tears.  
  
"I remember thinking... I remember, when he was almost at the park... I was... I remember thinking that I _refused_ to listen to my Sentinel _die!_ " She looked up and met Kevin's understanding eyes. "But... I couldn't _stop_ listening. I couldn't stop providing him comfort even... even if I lost him. I couldn't deny him my voice..." The tears spilled, and she felt her lips quivering, and the next thing she knew, she was settled against Kevin's broad chest, his arms wrapped around her.  
  
"Well, Miss Garcia, I think you've made _excellent progress_ jumping this particular hurdle. Let's just chill and watch this movie and not think of anything else for a while."  
  
She snorted even as a wad of tissues were waved in front of her nose and she took them. "You are such a jerk sometimes," she said, trying not to laugh as she wiped her tears and blew her nose. "Just for that, I should drip tears _all over your shirt_. And _snot_ , too."  
  
Kevin grinned at her as he settled them together on the couch to watch Jack Lemmon and Tony Curtis mince their way through the train station to meet up with the all girl orchestra.  
  
They had just gotten to the part where Tony Curtis was up to his chin in bubble bath to keep Jack Lemmon from blowing his chance with Marilyn Monroe when there was a firm and familiar knock on the door. Penelope sat up and stared at Kevin, who shrugged and made little shooing motions at her.  
  
The Labrador sat up, wagging his tail, and the otter, who had been curled up against his side, gave her a pointed glare. Fine. Even her spirit animal was fed up with her. She got up and went to the door slowly, taking in a deep breath and letting out it before she opened the door, fully prepared to give Derek Morgan a piece of her mind.  
  
That's rather hard to do with a bouquet of chocolate roses swirled with white chocolate in your face. She looked up, startled, to see Derek Morgan's face behind them, looking contrite. "Are you talking to me yet?"  
  
She stared at him and crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm still deciding."  
  
"Well, you'd better decide quick, because these chocolate roses are gonna melt if you don't get them in the fridge." Derek's eyes were playful, but cautious.  
  
"And on that note, I think it's time I said goodnight," said Kevin from behind her.  
  
Penelope turned and found him with his backpack in one hand, jacket in the other.  
  
"Oh... oh, okay, good... good night... Kevin," she said hesitantly, watching as he edged carefully around Derek, who watched him with a slight frown.  
  
"Good night, Penelope, and remember... _excellent progress?_ " He made jumping motions with two fingers.  
  
She shot him a death glare and he made a hasty retreat. She looked up at Derek, who raised his brows at her inquiringly.  
  
"Fine, come in. Wasting chocolate roses would be a travesty," she said, stepping back.  
  
He followed her into the kitchen and watched her pull out a tall vase to stick the roses in before putting them in the fridge. "Where did you find these, anyway?" she asked, looking at them for a long moment before closing the door.  
  
Derek smiled. "I know a guy. He makes roses from chocolate, and puts them in bouquets around Valentines. I did him a good turn a couple of years ago, and I asked if he could mix dark and white chocolate, he took it as a challenge and made those. Now he's thinking of expanding into flavors, so..." he shrugged.  
  
"You didn't come here just about the roses," she said, eying him for a moment as he watched her lean back against the kitchen counter. There was a welter of complicated emotions coming off the man, but since when was that unusual?  
  
Derek leaned back against the fridge, arms wrapped around himself, probably more vulnerable than she'd ever seen him before, and that... kind of freaked her out.  
  
"No. No, I didn't," he said softly. "The roses were a peace offering. But... I came here to talk." He looked away for a moment, focusing on the glittering disks that hung in the doorway of her bedroom. "I spent four hours in a car with Hotch..."  
  
"It only takes 3 and a half hours from New York to D. C.," Penelope interrupted with a little frown, then stopped when his finger landed on her lips.  
  
"Driving the speed limit, because of Hotch's injuries, and did a lot of talking and thinking."  
  
"Oh," she said, lifting his hand, "I think I need to be sitting down for this."  
  
"Whatever you need, baby girl."  
  
_And what if what I need is you?_ she thought softly as she led the way to the couch.  
  
  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

  
  
_Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born._  
  
_\--Anais Nin_  
  
  
  
  
  
They were sitting at the little table in her kitchen, facing each other.  
  
"So," Derek said, resting his elbows on the table, looking at her.  
  
Penelope stared him him for a long moment, then said, "So."  
  
Everything he'd been thinking about over the last three days was running through his head, all his justifications, the speeches he'd practiced... and didn't that make him wince. Speeches. Like he was going to talk _at_ her without giving her a chance to say anything... exactly the thing Aaron had warned him against doing.  
  
This was going to be harder than he thought. Because it was clear to him that she was still pretty pissed off at him.  
  
Penelope sighed, pulling him from his thoughts. "Derek. Stop it."  
  
"Stop what?"  
  
One dark eyebrow went up and she shook her head. "Really? You are so transparent. There you are, tearing yourself up and not talking to me, about what you're going to tell me without talking to me and this is _ridiculous_ , so I'm going to start. Shut up and listen," she said before he could open his mouth.  
  
Leaning forward, Penelope folded her hands in front of her. "You made mistakes, let me tell you them."  
  
He sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Okay."  
  
"First off, you went off without letting _anybody_ know, not even _me_ , and that's _bad_ , Derek. _Bad_." She glared up at him. "You weren't even going to let me know until you needed info on that ambulance, were you?"  
  
He rubbed the back of his neck uncertainly. "Well..."  
  
"That's what I thought," Penelope said angrily. "You know, Derek, I know you're all big and macho and independent and... and... and... _Sentinaley_..."  
  
"I don't think Sentinaley is a word, baby girl..."  
  
"Don't you _baby-girl_ me, Derek Morgan!" Penelope snapped. "You _scared_ me!"  
  
"Penelope..."  
  
"You scared me, Derek," she said angrily, tears in her eyes, and Derek was horrified, his hands half up as the tear scent got stronger. She batted them away, glaring at him. "There I was, having to listen to you practically _running_ off to sacrifice yourself and there was _nothing I could do to stop you!_ I'm sitting there, listening to _my Sentinel_ , trying to work himself up to tell me what I _mean_ to him, and it's taking _facing his fucking death_ for him to even _do it!_ " Her small body was practically vibrating with fury. "Do you have even the _faintest clue_ what that _did to me??_ "  
  
He stared at her in shock, then grabbed her hands. "I am so, so sorry. I'm sorry, Penelope... I never meant to hurt you," he said, rubbing his thumbs over the backs of her hands  
.  
"Well, you _did,_ " she said, sniffing and very obviously trying not to cry. "You _did_ , and it _sucks_ figuring out you _really are_ my Sentinel seconds before you try to send yourself off to a big flaming _death!_ Like I'm not good enough to want to _live_ for..."  
  
"Oh... Penelope," he said, stung to his very core. He got up and knelt down next to her, grabbing her hands as he stared up into her face. "Penelope, you _are_ worth living for and I am sorrier than I can say that I made you think otherwise. I'm... I've been in this... mentality of... I thought I didn't need a Guide. I had this ... stupid idea that... that having a Guide made you weak..."  
  
"Why would you think that?" she asked, frowning. "Didn't you know bonding makes Sentinels _stronger?_ "  
  
"Hotch... sort of set me straight on that," he couldn't help admitting. Her hands tightened in his, and he looked up to see her fighting a smile. "What?"  
  
Penelope snickered. "Do you know how long it took Hotch to admit he needed Spencer?"  
  
Derek frowned. "I thought it happened fast, like Hotch realized Reid was his Guide and _boom._ "  
  
"No, no, no, there was no boom, there was no... seriously?" She frowned at him. "Are you sure you're a Sentinel?"  
  
He held out his hands and leaned back. "C'mon... really? Look at me."  
  
"Oh, I am," Penelope said with a little curl of her lip. Then she shook herself and flapped her hands at him. "Will you _stop_ that??? I'm talking!"  
  
He couldn't help laughing softly though he did stop showing himself off, content to sit down and look up at her. Okay, Derek admitted it, he was sitting at her feet because he was enjoying how it affected her.  
  
The lift of one eyebrow told him he wasn't fooling her one bit. "I'm a Guide, Derek," Penelope said, shaking her head. "I can feel the smug _all over_ you." Then she sighed. "Derek, I know you've been through the courses that all the S & G centers make Sentinels take, right?"  
  
"Yeah," he said cautiously.  
  
"Then you know that all Guides have an empty place inside them where their Sentinel is supposed to be." One hand lifted and pressed to her chest. "Derek... it ... it _aches_. It _hurts_. And sometimes, especially when a Guide meets their Sentinel, the one that they _know_ , that their _instincts_ know... that _one_ Sentinel that is their match... that place becomes like... like this... _vast_ emptiness that just... _longs_ to be filled. It's like walking around with this huge gaping _hole_ and it's _worse_ because you know that the one person meant to fill it... doesn't... doesn't want you..."  
  
Derek stared up at her in sudden comprehension and horror, years worth of seeing Penelope rubbing her chest when she thought no one was looking, the wistful look he sometimes caught her giving him when she thought he was otherwise occupied, the sadness in her voice sometimes when he'd ask her if she had a date... "Penelope... baby girl... how long have you _known_..." he asked, nearly shaking with shock.  
  
Tears glimmered in her eyes again. "Since I met you," she whispered. She smiled so sadly. "I... I figured that... that you looked at me and... while you _liked_ me, I got the impression that... that I wasn't... what you wanted." She patted his hand. "I couldn't fault you. You're this awesome warrior Sentinel, you go charging into the fray and you take down the bad guys and _look_ at you! Then there's me, a tech specialist and I stay in small rooms with my computers and... look at _me_..." she finished miserably.  
  
"Yes," said Derek, grabbing her hands in one of his and reaching up with the other to touch her face. "Look at you, my curvy little tech goddess, you haven't met a system you can't break into, have you? You're _brilliant_ , Penelope! You're brilliant and beautiful, and you have such a big heart. Your voice has kept me sane, you've kept me from going over the edge into a feral episode, I can't _tell_ you how many times... Penelope, I meant what I said. You're my God-given solace, you're my comfort and my joy and my... Penelope, I've been... stupid, okay? I admit it. I've been stupid and stubborn, and one day I'll tell you all about why, but right now, what you need to know is... is... you're my Guide. You're it for me... if you'll have me."  
  
The joy shining in her eyes was pretty much all the answer he needed, and he pulled her down into his lap, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her neck.  
  
Penelope sighed and wrapped her arms around him, feeling right for the first time in what felt like forever. " _Sentinel_ ," she whispered, her fingers moving gently over his scalp and ears.  
  
Derek shivered, and pressed his nose behind her ear, inhaling deeply to draw her scent into his soul. " _Guide_."  
  
Her shields wrapped around him and for the first time in what felt like forever, he felt peace and silence and... _home_. A deep contentment seemed to suffuse them both and they both basked in it, letting it wrap around them and fill them. It was a long time coming, but they were finally where they were meant to be.  
  
  
  
  
Outside the apartment building, Kevin watched the lights dim in the windows of Penelope's apartment, sensing the waves of contentment flowing from two of his favorite people in the world, and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He hit speed dial and waited. "Agent Rossi? You owe me fifty. Yeah, take them off the schedule... no, I'd give them the full week, and you might send a couple of agents here to stand watch, this is going to be an intense nesting period. After all, they took, like, _forever_ to get here. Okay, okay, yeah, see you tomorrow."  
  
He put his phone back in his pocket and, with a happy smile, went on his merry way.  
  
  
  
  


**_finis_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this for the 2015 "Little Black Dress" Challenge on Roughtrade. And I made the conscious decision to touch it up before posting it in its entirety. It's a love letter to my adult daughter, who loves "Criminal Minds" and is constantly lamenting that there aren't nearly enough Derek/Penelope fics to make her happy. 
> 
> It's been a tough year for us. My husband was diagnosed with colorectal cancer in 2016, which pretty much destroyed my ability to concentrate enough to write, and after three years of treatment, two of which went very well, we lost him in November, four weeks shy of our 30th wedding anniversary. Writing is very hard for me right now. So I beg your patience, your indulgence, and your kindness as I struggle to find my writing feet again.


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